A/N: So, this is it, folks! Thank-you all so very much for your ongoing support. I say it ad nauseam, but you guys keep me going. I don't know where I'd be some days without your kind and flattering comments. Thanks a million.

XXX

"She's so little…"

"Well, she'll always have a big brother to protect her."

"Little brother, you mean. Liz is three minutes older."

"Mmm…something tells me Ben will rise to the occasion."

Why had Mary been afraid of the NICU? Since that fateful December morning two weeks before Christmas when she'd read the positive pregnancy test, she had toiled endlessly over what awaited in miniature cubicles with holes only big enough to breathe. That had been before she'd known she was having twins, and still the fears presided over her like a threatening storm cloud.

But, there was nothing to fear here. It was warm and bright, occupied with tiptoeing nurses that guarded preemies as though they were Great Danes on the police force. One false move and they maimed the intruder – teeth bared and ready to strike. Mary had always pictured herself in some sinister little corner, isolated from the rest of humanity with their plump, chubby-cheeked babies, shielding her young from predators such as infection or uncontrollable choking.

In contrast, the space was large and vast. Mary and Marshall had their privacy, offset from other mothers and fathers holding vigil, but those extraneous parents made Mary feel like she was part of a club. A club of survivors. A club of warriors, brandishing shields and swords. A unit with a pact.

They'd been kind when she and Marshall had entered uncertainly. She would've thought they'd all be so focused on their struggling offspring; they wouldn't have time for new blood. Indeed, there were a few people – moms in particular – that never looked up from their children's beds. These were the ones that made Mary mourn for infants she did not know, and their mothers as well. She prayed those babies went home to their families, to sleep in their own blankets, to rock in their own chairs.

But there were others who seemed oddly joyous for the company. Their phrases were all different, but each word expressed was touching and heartfelt. Mary could hear the reverberation of some of them now, as she held her frail daughter in her arms for the very first time.

"Oh, you're the one with the twins! They look like they're doing so well!"

"Those babies are beautiful! And such fighters!"

"You sure are gonna have your hands full with those two!"

"You must feel so lucky to have two healthy babies."

And that was exactly how Mary felt. Lucky. She did not possess awareness of having just scraped by, or of dodging a bullet, but sensed luck's magical powers of creating four leaf clovers, or dropping pennies on the ground.

She was not gasping her winded reprieve, but soaking up her resounding uniqueness – the rarity and specialness of delivering Ben and Lizzie with nothing but time to halt and catch their breath. Mary looked around at babies who could not be held, who could not move their fingers or open their eyes.

And she knew that lucky, in the purest and most positive sense of the word, was what she'd be for the rest of her days.

"I was thinking something…kind of strange…" Mary spoke up amidst her racing optimism, pulling Elizabeth nearer to her chest, for she was quite tiny and feeble. "Hope you won't mind if I tell you what it is."

"Never," Marshall replied from his rocking chair beside her, gently swaying Ben back and forth on the runners. "Our lives would hardly be complete without a few idiosyncrasies imbedded in them."

"Okay, let me stop you right there…" she took care of the fact that she could not punch her finger by adding a cutting edge to her voice. "If you start saying things like 'idiosyncrasies' around our children, you can kiss my willingness to feed them at three in the morning goodbye."

He inclined his head with a soft smile and continued rocking, "Dually noted. Please continue disclosing the initiation of this oddity."

Mary's gaze traveled back to her little girl, and she was reminded again why she had felt the need to voice this specific peculiarity of her thought process. It had baffled her consistently since they'd arrived in the neo-natal unit almost an hour before, the first twenty minutes of which had been spent prepping to remove Lizzie from her incubator.

"How is it that…?" it was hard to construct an entire sentence when she had this flawless face to fawn over. "…Not even twenty-four hours ago, this one was wedged in my pelvis and that one…" a jerk of her head toward Ben. "…Was in danger of snapping my ribs into splinters and they're…" For lack of a better word, "Here. All here. Intact."

Marshall quirked his eyebrows boyishly, "Well, new-mom-wisdom and scintillating poetry aside…"

"Can it, doofus…"

"It's one of those things it's pretty tough to reconcile," he segued as though Mary had not elbowed him aside. "No matter how intellectual the human mind is, it can be boggling to grasp that a woman truly does harvest and breed something as concrete as another human being."

How could Mary have doubted that Marshall wouldn't be able to find the words that had failed her?

"That they're in the womb, and in a snap, co-existing among us mortals is one of the great mysteries and great phenomenons of life. One I will never stop marveling in."

Mary was still listening, but she was doing some marveling of her own. She had been warned upon entrance that the duration allowed for cradling Lizzie was to be exceptionally brief. There was a nurse watching them like a hawk just a few feet away; she didn't breathe as habitually as her brother, though she did manage by herself if necessary. Almost more important was that she battled ferociously at staying warm enough, which prompted Mary to huddle her still tighter against her breast.

Abandoning his oration, Marshall softened seeing the pair together, "She's something, isn't she? Before we know it, she'll be a rip-roaring little tyke driving us – and Ben here; I'm sure – completely up-the-wall. Just like her mother."

"Flattering," Mary mumbled absently, knowing she was expected to retort but was too busy falling in love with her child's face. "Really nice…"

How could someone so diminutive be so perfect? Mary adored the way she burrowed against her gown, searching for security; it seemed those nurses had been right about her low temperature. But, her flesh was so crimson it reminded her mother of cotton candy; there was a glowing hue under her pinkness that made her look like she was burning a light all the way from her closed eyes to her socked toes. She never would've thought there'd be a being small enough to wear a hat like the one Lizzie had donned, but perhaps her daughter had set a record.

"I like watching you two," Marshall chimed in, and Mary could tell by his voice that he was in a paradise of his own. "She's got that skirmishing spirit like her mama."

Mary swallowed without looking up, "I didn't think we'd have anything in common."

It wasn't something she'd ever admitted to Marshall but, deep down, she'd always felt more of a connection to Ben, even as a fetus in her uterus, purely because of Jamie. It had never felt fair that she should be partial to one child over another, but Mary was not the most feminine person. It was a gigantic relief to know that, similarities aside, she felt as natural with Elizabeth as she did with Ben.

"It's pretty early to be concerned about camaraderie," Marshall wasn't fussed, as usual. "Mother-daughter bonding will come."

It will come. It will. 'It will' had never sounded as miraculous as it did right now.

"You know, we have veered from the 'strange' theme, but as you asked me if you could share something offhand, I'm wondering if you would object to my bringing up an equally outlandish topic."

Mary grinned, kicking her feet into the floor to give Lizzie a little bit of tempo, for Ben seemed to be enjoying his ride on Marshall's coaster; he hadn't made a peep except to coo since he'd been lowered into daddy's clutches.

"Knock yourself out, Poindexter," she invited briskly.

"I am hoping your ongoing animation will not arouse you to skirt the issue I am leaning toward."

Mary had to give him that, "Well, if there was ever a day to try my patience, I guess it would be this one. So, what's on your mind?"

Marshall repeated his phrasing over and over in his brain before deciding to act aloud. Whatever Mary had just said, he knew that no circumstances, no matter how high-spirited, could entirely erase any sort of shame she might feel at what he was about to bring between them. But, even though she'd brought it to his attention during a time when his concentration should've been on their seconds-old children, he couldn't help fixating on it. It had seemed so foreign and fleeting, and he had to know what had prompted it.

"When you were holding Ben…" he started out slowly, not wanting to seem abrasive or as though he was conducting a test. "In the operating room…you were so…so overjoyed…"

Mary wasn't sure she'd ever experience that kind of unlevel-headed, unabashed mess of pleasure that she'd been when she'd clung to her son ever again. To be so distraught, so petrified, to have thought for eight months her life would begin and end with that very moment of losing her babies, only to have one of them land smack in her lap when she needed it most was invigorating beyond recognition. She looked back upon those seconds so fondly, even this early in the game.

But, now wasn't the time to start getting sentimental. Marshall was speaking about something that was obviously bothering him.

"And…I can't tell you what a thrill it was seeing you like that…" he swallowed so forcefully Mary could see a bulge go down his throat. "And then…you said…"

Pretending he was mistaken, that he had been as caught up in the kids as she had been, was immaterial. Mary knew where he was headed, and she knew exactly what she'd said.

"You said…that you loved me."

She decided quickly that to say anything would just botch an already awkward conversation. She settled for nodding instead, glad to have Liz with her for this. It was soothing, as was the cadence she was creating with the chair.

It hurt her to see Marshall so suddenly perplexed, "And then…when I said it back…" a quick glance to Ben, to make sure he was still sleeping soundly. "You seemed so…" his face contorted another time, unable to elucidate his befuddlement. "So…so genuinely shocked that I felt the same way. I mean…Mary, I feel like I know you pretty well; I don't think you were faking it. If you were, that was some acting job…"

His woman knew he could not be finished, not when his lips moved side-to-side and his eyebrows crinkled up and down, his head wagging toward the ground and finally, goggle-eyed right at her.

"Why on earth would that surprise you? Surely you know how much I love you."

Mary knew that she couldn't say anything that would legitimately explain her lack of belief in Marshall, which she was rapidly realizing was as insulting to him as she'd perceived it to be to herself. Making jokes didn't seem like a good idea either, although she had a great many up her sleeve. She'd been loopy on the meds. She'd been out-of-it because she'd been so flustered about the twins. She was blinded by the baby in her arms and hadn't been acting coherent.

All plausible, but not the truth.

Running a slow finger down Lizzie's nose, she knew the old adage wasn't kidding. The truth was all that could set you free.

"Marshall…" she sighed, pondering why she wasn't more upset that they were having this debate over babies that were not even a day old. "Do you want to marry me?" He opened his mouth too fast, and Mary was ready for him, "Think about what I just asked you. I don't want the third-degree. I don't want conditions and red tape. Answer the question, plain and simple. Do you want to marry me?"

Amidst the chunking ventilators and beeping monitors surrounding them, Mary fully expected to have to wait him out, but he was as swift and clean as she'd ever known him to be.

"Yes."

Unable to fathom it could really be so easy, Mary almost scoffed. She would've held up a hand in frustration if not for the fact that both were occupied holding Elizabeth.

"Then why wouldn't you ask me to? Did you think I'd say no? Is that why you never tell me you love me either?"

It was his turn not to root himself in denial. They both knew he'd been making a conscious effort not to utter that dangerous three-letter-word, and excuses did not change it.

"Yes. I thought you would say no. And, when we talked about it, it was a mutual understanding between us that it was not crucial," he fiddled with Ben's blue cap while he spoke. "You are not a woman who likes to be needled when she's made up her mind. I thought if I brought it up again, I'd run the risk of ruining our whole relationship. And, frankly, I'm not uptight about it if you're not. My life will not end without a wedding or a marriage certificate…" now he was making clucking noises, because their son was fidgeting. "But…it's not as though I'm adverse…if…you know…" too many pauses. "You're feeling intrepid."

Intrepid might be going a bit far, but Mary was focused on only one element of this confession – an element that annoyed her to no end.

"Damn…" she was going to have to watch the cursing; it came so automatically. "They were right," grumbling heartily.

"Who was?"

"Mark. And my numbskull sister with her bucket of gossip. How was I supposed to know she actually knew what she was talking about now and again?"

"And what is it that they were correct about?"

Mary felt her cheeks flush, knowing Marshall was not going to be happy to hear that she'd been so agitated about this that she'd confided in her ex-husband and Brandi, of all people.

"They told me that the only reason you weren't marrying me was because you thought it was what I wanted – that if I just told you how I really felt, I'd get a different answer."

A profound silence followed this now asininely obvious testimony. Mary could not believe she'd spent weeks brooding on something like this, when Mark and Brandi had dropped the truth right on her head like a giant anvil. She really did only see what she wanted to sometimes.

"Well…" Marshall was clearly going to try and make her feel better about it. "If it helps, the whole not saying 'I love you' is right up the same alley. You're pretty touchy about that sort of thing, Mare, and we've never been into labels. I didn't want to scare you off when I could say the same thing with my actions, even without the words."

"So basically…" she heaved a big sigh. "I could've avoided all this twaddle if I'd just opened my mouth and forced you to give it to me straight. Something I never used to have a problem with, by the way."

"Nah…" Marshall could always turn it around. "It's not all your fault. I shouldn't have been shy about speaking up. I could tell something was bugging you, and sometimes the little things go a long way – even something as theoretically little as saying, 'I love you.'"

Only Marshall would be able to sum it all up so succinctly and make Mary not feel like such a lame-ass pansy in the process, although Ben and Lizzie were probably helping tremendously in the self-esteem department. It was a comfortable quiet that embarked upon their nook then, Mary shifting Elizabeth so her cheek would rest against the portion of her skin that was exposed when she unsnapped her gown. The little one seemed to lap up that taste of flesh, like she'd found an oasis in the desert.

"So…" she broke the stillness, knowing there was never going to be another moment like this one, where she would feel as bold as possible throwing something so massive into the open air. "I guess we're getting married, then?"

And God bless Marshall.

"I am if you are."

Tearing her green stare from her daughter, she spared him a smirk, "Then it's settled. Glad we got that figured out."

"Me too." And, unable to help himself, "Mare…"

She was right back in her own world with Lizzie and had to be drawn out, "Hmm?"

As brazen as she'd been, "I will never, as long as I live, love a woman as much as I love you. Even if I forget to say it for the rest of my days…" though she knew he wouldn't, not now. "It will never stop being true. You made me a dad."

Mary giggled, "That's funny. That's why I finally said it to you – back there," during the C-section. "Because I couldn't get over that you'd made me mom. I guess I decided I didn't care if you said it back, because I knew it was still how I felt. I know it's stupid, but part of me is still seven inside, Marshall. I'm afraid to tell people I love them because I'm scared they're gonna run out on me," and this was solely because of James.

His brow furrowed just slightly, "Just out of interest, what was your reasoning going to be for when I packed my bags and drove away? Not that I'd ever do that."

It was impossible to consider now, even when Mary had been so absolutely certain in those lonely hours in her bedroom, but once again, she was going to have to be honest.

"That you were only with me because you felt sorry for me," she managed a shrug, signifying how ridiculous this was. "That you were too good a guy to abandon a friend going through so much disorder, but that one day you'd fold and walk out."

Only one word of this seemed to reach the man, "Sorry about what?"

"Jamie."

The name sounded stark, almost otherworldly among these living, breathing – very much alive – babies. Nothing could ever take away how alive Jamie felt in Mary's heart; that little boy with the crystal sapphires for eyes and the golden crown for hair. But, she couldn't help wondering if he would somehow go by the wayside now that she had Ben and Elizabeth to cater to for the rest of her days.

Marshall, forever the mind-reader, could guess what she was mulling over given whom she had just mentioned.

"He's only gone when you forget how much he gave you, partner. I don't surmise that will be happening any time soon," he forecasted brilliantly. "How much you love Benjamin and Lizzie does not diminish what Jamie meant to you."

Mary nodded laboriously, vowing that she was not going to start weeping over her daughter's softball-sized head. She thought about telling Marshall about the dream she'd had prior to delivery, the one that had enabled her to feign composure for the majority, if not all of, the operation. But, she decided it was one of those intensely personal fantasies, real or imagined, that she didn't wish to share with anyone. Not because she was humiliated or uncomfortable, but because Jamie had always been a slice of reassurance for her and her alone.

"And I do love them…" she publicized without bravado and sheer majesty. "You were right about that. The minute I felt that first stroke of skin with Ben…" it was sappy, but not fallacious in the least. "There was never any question."

"Ditto for me, inspector," if Marshall had-had a hat, he would've tipped it. "But, you should know, I actually held Lizzie first. For about two seconds, mind you, while they relocated her to the cubicle here. There's nothing like it in this world."

And Mary was bowled over, not by the twins this time, but by the notion that she could've ever convinced herself that words were the quintessential element to taping a bond as one. Words could so often be empty and hollow, but a well-timed gesture or splatter of compassion went miles toward influencing anyone that what they had was real.

After all, just how many people in Mary's life had not been on the receiving end of an, 'I love you' from her? Indeed, hadn't these same individuals neglected to return the favor? And she would never hesitate about her feelings for them in a second.

Seth and Stan. Mark, although there might've been a time eons ago in her youth where she'd professed some kind of infatuation. Tripp, she reflected with only a miniscule pang. Jamie, as his delusion had pointed out in her wildest dreams. Even the two newest Manns on the planet earth had spent thirty-four excruciating weeks never hearing their mother whisper through her tummy what it meant that they were budding and fostering strength before her very eyes. And were they complaining? Not in the least.

Marshall was nudging his chair across the shiny linoleum so Mary could have a look at both of her babies. This close, she could see Ben wrinkling his nose, snuffling as he found the warm spot in the crook of Marshall's elbow.

"They are truly exquisite…" he admired in a hushed voice, peering over his son to see his baby girl. "You created a pair of beauties, mama."

"I can hardly take all the credit," Mary snorted, but she too was taking the opportunity to worship Ben for the second time; far larger than Lizzie, he was already sprouting downy tufts of hair, curling around the lip of his pale sky-shaded hat. This reminded her, "If they don't have those blue eyes of yours, I may be pettily disappointed," half-joking, half-serious.

"Well, I'll take the compliment for what it is," Marshall declared. "But, being this striking…take my word for it. That's all you."

Mary truly did not know how her life could get any better than this. Since her days of a deadbeat dad, a mom grinding to make ends meet, a sister full of blunders, witnesses falling through the cracks, broken engagements, broken promises, and broken hearts, she'd managed to come out the other side – scarred, but still scratching.

And Jamie might have taught her perseverance, but Marshall had taught her to take that resolve and spin it into something more – something shown as, but not called, love.

"There's only one part of me I want them to be," Mary whispered, daring to slip her fingers from beneath Lizzie's back to rest her nails on Ben's cheek.

Her girl and her boy – three pounds or four, inhaling or panting, a racing pulse or strong and steady beating heart, they were flawless just the way they were. Everything she could've ever asked for and more.

"Well, one is being stingy," Marshall teased softly, migrating slowly to the left, his lips finding the lobe of her ear. "But, do tell."

The warmth of his breath was nothing if not a stimulant, "To dream…to survive…to train…and to grow."

"Well, if you were up to the challenge…"

Mary closed her eyes and smiled, feeling her heart soar at his pillowy kiss on her flesh, the coo of her son, and the squirm of her daughter below.

"I'd say our little soldiers are too."

XXX

A/N: And that's the end! I hope you all enjoyed the journey! I have hopes of a third installment, just because I have this longing already to flesh out the twins' personalities, but have absolutely zero storyline in my head. So, I can't promise anything, but I hope to be back – either with more Ben and Lizzie, or something new.

As always, thank-you so much to all my reviewers: usafcmycloud, jekkah, BrittanyLS, JMS529, Sparky She-Demon, ladypuercoloco, MegManning, JJ2008, Candy, carajiggirl, Jayne Leigh, Hannanball13, Ares' Warrior Babe, Emiliana Keladry, Adelled, and Bookworm0485. Some of you reviewed every single chapter and some of you only a handful, but whether forty-five or one, I am so grateful for anything you did – even if it was just reading without reviewing! I hope you all will stick by me if I manage to come back; I always doubt my ability to return with something new. It's been awesome, IPS fans. I'll miss you (till next time!)